


Subaquatic

by landica



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - 1980s, Alternate Universe - Atlantis: The Lost Empire Fusion, Cartography, M/M, Minor Injuries, Sam Winchester wears Glasses, Temporarily Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-07
Updated: 2018-08-13
Packaged: 2019-06-23 06:31:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,799
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15600381
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/landica/pseuds/landica
Summary: “He left her, Bobby; he left her to die so he could chase some mystic city and you want to go and what? What if we get there and it’s just some false lead?” Sam exclaims, throwing his hands up.“Then you can say ‘I told you so’, boy,” Bobby growls at him, crossing his arms.“I’m sorry,” Sam says, moving towards the door, “Bobby, I really am, but I won’t make the same mistakes he did. You don’t need me for this.”“No,” Crowley calls after him when he’s half way into the hall, “But you’re brother does.”





	1. Chapter 1

Sam Winchester was just locking his classroom door when there was a light tap on his shoulder. He turned and there stood a woman, a very familiar woman with long dark hair and a devil may care smile that still gave him chills.

 

“Hello, Ruby,” He said, shrugging his satchel further up his shoulder, glasses sliding down his nose, and a long suffering look already pasted across his face.

 

“Oh, Sam,” she breathed, melodramatic as always, “Aren’t you happy to see me?”

 

Sam started heading for the stairwell at the end of the hallway, barely replying at an understandable volume, “Have I ever been?”

 

She followed him rather quickly for her attire, a sleek red dress and heels that clicked on the linoleum of the hallway. As she kept pace with him, Sam almost unconsciously slowed down to accommodate her, “What is it, Ruby?”

 

“I have a job offer,” she replied, continuing before Sam could make some careless remark about her line of work, “From a Mr. Robert Singer, I believe the two of you are acquainted?”

 

Sam stopped on a step lower than her and turned to glare, “Why would Bobby _hire_ you?”

 

“That’s what I’m here to talk to you about,” she answered, tilting her head so her hair would fall over her shoulder, “They’ve found your father’s journal.”

 

Sam said nothing, chewing the inside of his cheek, casting a glance down the stairwell. She stepped down to the same stair he was on, getting uncomfortable close before Sam could even think to back up, “He only wants you to hear him out, Sam.”

 

He frowned and started descending the stairs again, no longer keeping a reasonable pace, “Tell him I’ll be at the manor later tonight.”

 

He doesn’t turn to see the smug look Ruby has plastered on but he knows it’s there as he takes the steps two at a time now, urgency growing at an alarming rate. When he’s on the last few steps, he turns and growls at the woman slowly following him, “Only to _talk_ , Ruby.”

 

She nods but the pleased air dims ever so slightly and Sam takes a little of vicious comfort in that as he leaves her in the stairwell and heads toward the rainy parking lot and his car.

 

As he throws his bag and satchel in his passenger seat, his mind already starts racing, his father’s journal was lost with his father, somewhere out at sea. Well, in the sea, if he was being technical.

 

His father had thought himself to be a great explorer, a finder of lost worlds and ancient civilizations. Sam would give his father some credit; the man had found countless artifacts and even a few unknown tombs. However, the man had dwindled into insanity before his last trip, always hunched over his journal, muttering about how he’d finally found the entrance. When Sam was younger, he liked to think maybe his father had actually found the gateway to a lost empire and lived among the natives. As he grew older, he saw the toll his father’s madness had taken on his mother and his bitterness grew when she fell ill.

 

His older brother…did not share his sentiments and neither did Robert Singer, it seemed. Sam sighed before starting the car and making his way to the Singer Manor.

 

Bobby Singer had been a companion of sorts to his father and a father to him and his brother when John Winchester would leave the country for months or, on occasion, years on end. He was a kind man, country raised and self-made conglomerate, a majority stockholder of a number of companies. He also had an uncanny interest in cryptology and mythology, especially if combined.

 

He could guess what the job would be; Bobby wanted to know what was in his father’s journal and had hit a snag somewhere. Although, Sam couldn’t be sure how he would be able to help, his major was in geography, focusing heavily on cartography. Maps. “Treasure maps,” his brother said once with a grin and a hair ruffle, “Guess you didn’t stray too far from the family business, after all.”

 

Sam loathed admitting he was right but he had turned down a career in law to pursue something that would either lead to city planning or mapping unknown areas. He pulled into the entrance of the manor and waited by the speakerphone with his window cracked ever so slightly. The windshield wipers thumped back and forth, as the rain continued to fall.

 

The thing crackled to life with a hiss, “Name?”

 

“Professor Sam Winchester.”

 

It died with a crackling pop and the gates in front of him opened, the manor looming in the background like some haunted castle. He pulled up and tried not to picture stoned gargoyles lining the drive. His glasses fogged up for a moment and he could feel his pulse pick up as he parked the car. He left his bags and ran for the shelter of the unlit veranda, a dog barked somewhere off in the manor as soon as he knocked on the door.

 

Crowley opened the door and Sam resisted the urge to back up immediately. Ruby and now Crowley? Maybe there was more to this than his father’s journal.

 

“Well, don’t just stand there,” Crowley, said, looking tired, “I’m not the damn butler, let’s go.”

 

Sam mumbled an apology as he slipped into the dark front room. It wasn’t as big as he remembered it but then he’d probably grown quite a bit since he was last here. He shakes his wet head and turns back to Crowley who watched him. The man was underhanded and self absorbed but still very charismatic because when he smirked at Sam, Sam smiled back despite himself, “It’s good to see you.”

 

Crowley only lifted a shoulder as he turned and walked down the corridor, “You‘ve grown.”

 

The lights in the corridor were off as well and Sam’s eyes kept catching shadows on the walls, “Did the power go out?”

 

“Yes, a tree fell on the generator outside, won’t be fixed until morning, I’m afraid,” Crowley, answered but his voice seemed distant, distracted. Sam’s adrenaline spiked again.

 

As they came across an open doorway, light was flickering against the wall, warm and welcoming. The room was exactly as Sam remembered it; a fireplace as tall as him against the far wall, big church-like windows on the left side of the wall looking onto the manor grounds, embellished French doors on the right leading into the private study. Thousands of books on the shelves and scattered around the room that Sam swallowed air at the thought of leisure time here.

 

Two nice leather armchairs sat in front of the fireplace with a couch between the two and a coffee table in front of it. Bobby Singer sat in one of the chairs, staring into the fire, looking so much older than Sam remembered. He looked up as they walked and a boyish grin spread across his face, “Sam!”

 

Sam hugged him as soon as he could; he had missed this man. His heart ached a little that his brother wasn’t here as well. Did they even approach Dean?

 

“Hello, Bobby,” Sam said into the man’s flannel, smelling wood smoke and aftershave before he stepped back, “It’s so good to see you.”

 

“It’s good to see you, too, kid,” Bobby grumbled, his eyes watering somewhat before he cleared his throat, “How’s school?”

 

Sam chuckled, “About how you expect, teaching college kids where Alotau is located.”

 

He stopped grinning when he remembered why he was here, fingers tapping nervously against his leg, “You found his journal?”

 

Bobby nodded, his face growing somber, “More than that, Sam.”

 

“What do you mean?” Sam asked, sitting down on the sofa, leaning forward questioningly as Bobby sat back in his chair. Bobby didn’t answer right away, sharing a look with Crowley, who was still in the doorway, their expressions unreadable to Sam.

 

“Dean found the journal,” Bobby started and held up a hand to caught Sam off when he opened his mouth in shock, “Your father had left it to him. They only read the will a week ago.”

 

“What?” Sam didn’t understand, “But he’s been dead for over six years now.”

 

“Dean…delayed in signing the papers,” Bobby said, his expression placating in a way that Sam hated. The man paused, unsure how to continue.

 

Crowley stepped up, behind the armchair, “Your brother’s issues with attachment aside, the journal contains something you might find interesting,” he looks directly at Sam, his gaze uncomfortably piercing, “A map.”

 

Sam scoffed, his eyebrow quirked, “You’re kidding,” he huffed, looking between the two men. Their expressions clearly said otherwise and Sam forced himself to take a breath before answering, “You think it’s to what he was looking for you, don’t you? You think it will lead to the Gates of Atlantis.”

 

The hissing of the fire and the pattering of rain on the windows broke the silence in the room. Sam shook his head, standing up, “You’re insane. There’s nothing down there.”

 

Bobby stood as well, suddenly reaching to grip Sam’s shoulder, “Sam, listen, hear us out.”

 

“He left her, Bobby; he left her to die so he could chase some mystic city and you want to go and what? What if we get there and it’s just some false lead?” Sam exclaims, throwing his hands up.

 

“Then you can say ‘I told you so’, boy,” Bobby growls at him, crossing his arms.

 

“I’m sorry,” Sam says, moving towards the door, “Bobby, I really am, but I won’t make the same mistakes he did. You don’t need me for this.”

 

“No,” Crowley calls after him when he’s half way into the hall, “But you’re brother does.”

 

Sam stops in his tracks, for the second time that day, haunted by his father’s ghost and missing Dean. He thinks about the last time he saw his brother, the argument they had about this very thing, it was almost a year now. What if his brother got hurt? What if he misread the map and walked right into some ancient booby trap?

 

Sam groaned, taking his glasses off and rubbing his eyes, those were weak excuses and he knew it.

 

He turned and walked back into the room, sitting down in the chair facing the windows. With his hand holding his chin, he watched the rain slide down the panes and thought of his mother. Dean looked a lot like her, really, his eyes and his facial expressions. He hopes she won’t be upset with him for this, wherever she is now.

 

He turned to Crowley, scrutinizing, “Do you have a crew?

 

  
  


 


	2. Chapter 2

The boat he was taking to, and Sam still couldn’t believe he agreed to any of this, his father’s last known coordinates was rather large. In the back of his mind, he knew this was a full-on expedition but seeing them load the mini-sub was a sharp smack in the face. He stood on the dock, nervously cleaning his glasses in an attempt to delay the inevitability of boarding when he heard a familiar voice yelling his name.

 

Quickly shoving his glasses back on, he turned and looked through the hordes of crewmen for his older brother. He sees him when Dean comes around a pair of workers carrying a coffin shaped box onto the ship. Dean hasn’t aged at all but he does look much more suited for this type of thing than Sam does. He’s wearing their dad’s leather jacket and faded khaki pants, his face full of excitement. All he needs is a fedora, Sam notes, amused. Dean held a working position he liked to call part-time archeologist. He floated around to various museums and sites, consulting or staying a few months to help with research. He had a tendency to appreciate the more… local sights but his opinion was valuable so the curators and his coworkers tended to have a blind spot for his brother’s behavior. Overall, he looked good. Thriving, even, among crew.

 

Sam spared a thought of how he looked to Dean but it was probably how he always did, very young.

 

“Sammy!” Dean yelled again, although he was much closer and it was unneeded, “I can’t believe you came!”

 

When he was close enough Dean wrapped his baby brother in a vice, Sam could scarcely breathe but did his best to return it. He always forgot he was taller than Dean, his brother was larger than life in his mind, always had been.

 

“Hello, Dean,” he answered, pulling back and pushing his glasses back up his nose with a grin, “How have you been?”

 

Dean’s smile grew almost pained for a moment but Sam didn’t notice as he replied, “Same as always, Sam,” he shrugged, “I was in Calcutta when one of Dad’s lawyers found me, gave me some spiel about chasing me down so I signed the papers and then the guy just handed me this all wrapped up in papyrus.”

 

He waves a worn leather bound book and Sam swallows.

 

“The journal.”

 

Dean’s nod is sharp, “Guy was gone before I even got the thing open. I called Bobby a day or two later and here we are,” Dean pauses and looks at Sam with open curiosity, “Although I’m kind of surprised you came at all, I thought you didn’t believe in all this…” he stops again and shrugs, “…voodoo.”

 

Sam smiles weakly at him, no excuse coming to mind, “Couldn’t let you go by yourself, could I?”

 

Dean raises his eyebrows at Sam, his brother’s reasoning seemed unsure even to Sam but he only nods slowly and jerks his head toward the boarding bridge, “Come on, I’ll introduce you to the team.”

 

Sam grabs the leather duffle bag at his feet, adjusting the satchel already over his shoulder and heads to the gangplank, Dean taking in his appearance as he does. Sam’s hair is longer than the last time and sleep mussed but it always is, his shirt is white and collared, the sleeves rolled up and a few buttons undone. He looks like a tired professor but more importantly to Dean, he looks much older than he should. They’d been apart too long.

 

Dean jogs to catch up behind him as they step onto the ship, their home for the next week; he tugs on Sam’s satchel, heading to the right and down a stairwell. They walk down a narrow hallway and press against the wall more than a few times to let crewmembers pass them. They finally turn and Sam breathes a sigh of relief when they walk into an open cabin but, he thinks looking around, perhaps it was premature.

 

There’s a bunk bed on the left and a bunk on the right. The bunk on the top left holds a blonde man fiddling with what is most definitely a stick of dynamite with a cigarette in his mouth. The bottom left is a bigger man with dark eyes and a dusty cap who appears to be looking at dirt samples. The bunk on the bottom right is a woman, a girl really, with her brown hair in a braid and what looks like a small engine in her lap. The last bunk could only belong to the bearded man sitting at the small desk pushed against the back wall; he has a bone saw in his hand.

 

“Our room is next door but I thought you should meet everybody first,” Dean points to the man on top, “This is Balthazar Milton, our demolitions expert,” the man waves the stick at them and Sam only nods weakly.

 

“Benny Lafitte, our geologist,” The man in the cap pushes it back and gives what he probably thinks is a friendly smile.

 

Dean saunters over to the girl and Sam already knows from the way she tenses that his brother is about to get reminded not everyone loves a charmer, “Meg Masters, our beautiful mechanic,” Dean says, too busy looking at Sam to dodge the elbow to his gut.

 

While Dean is wheezing, the man at the table sets down the medical equipment and comes over to Sam, hand offered, “My name is Dr. Cain Genesis, it’s a pleasure to meet you.”

 

Sam takes the hand and looks down at it, shocked at the softness, “Professor Sam Winchester, delighted I’m sure.”

 

Balthazar puts his cigarette out on the side of the ship’s hull, “Professor of what, exactly?”

 

“Cartography,” Sam answers, keeping a reasonable distance from the man, but he feels annoyance when the man rolls his eyes.

 

“That’s great, who’s gonna watch out for some ill-equipped pansy when all the fighting starts?” he grumbles, flicking the cigarette bud onto the ground.

 

Cain shoots him a glare and Dean comes to Sam’s defense before he can even open his mouth, “Sam can take of himself, maybe you should be worrying about not blowing us all sky high.

 

Sam frowns, not caring about the smudge on his honor in the least, “Fighting? What fighting? _If_ we find anything, it’ll be ruins. A few pots and walls intact is the most we can hope for here.”

 

The girl snorts and the geologist looks at Dean, who’s rubbing his neck. Sam’s eyes narrow, “What aren’t you telling me?”

 

“Listen, Sam,” Dean begins and Sam’s already sick of hearing that phrase, as if he’s always being the unreasonable one, “The journal has ….warnings.”

 

“Warnings?” Sam hisses, “About what, exactly?

 

The loudspeaker went off just then, a male monotone voice telling them the ship was now leaving port and to pray to whatever god they believed in that they’d be returning. Sam felt a hysterical laugh build up in his throat and tried to suppress it.

 

“There’s a leviathan,” Dean said quickly.

 

Sam did not suppress things very well and the laugh burst out. He inhaled deeply through his nose, nodded to himself before turning around, and started heading for the deck, Dean shouting after him.

 

He’s half way down the hall, before Dean catches up with him, “Sam, Sam, come on, it’s probably just some made up guardian to keep people away, you don’t even believe in this stuff, Sam, hey,” he made a grab for Sam’s shoulder, turning his brother around, “Do you really think there’s a monster waiting around a bunch of ruins? You and I both know that never happens, no matter what some book tells you.”

 

Sam pursed his lips and looked at Dean over his glasses, “Dean, what was the weather like when Dad started this same journey?”

 

“Clear skies, just like now,” Dean answered, not following.

 

Sam nodded, “Right. And yet somehow his team _and_ his boat just vanished.”

 

Dean blinked, incredulous of what he was hearing, “Sam, are you telling me you think a monster killed our Dad?”

 

Sam rolled his eyes, “Not necessarily a monster, Dean, maybe—”

 

“Maybe a giant squid, perhaps?” a voice said behind the two men, a man in an old colonel’s uniform leaned against the wall a couple feet back. His eyes were uncomfortably bright for the dim corridor and Sam felt a wave unease pass in his stomach.

 

He nodded slowly, “Or the entrance is in its territory. I’m sorry, you are?”

 

Even Dean looked uncomfortable as he said, “This is Colonel Asmodeus, he’s leading this expedition.”

 

Sam frowned at Dean but his brother wouldn’t meet his eyes. The colonel held out a hand and Sam took hold of it, it was cold and dry and Sam resisted the urge to wipe his hand on his shirt.

 

“You’re Sam Winchester, you read maps,” the man said before Sam could, “It’ll be a pleasure working with you. Don‘t you worry about those pesky squids, we‘ve got a little present for them,” he nodded before slipping past them and continuing up the stairs to the deck.

 

Sam looked to Dean, “He’s in charge?”

 

Dean made a face, “Bobby insisted.”

 

“I don’t like him,” Sam grumbles, shifting his duffle bag, before taking his glasses off to clean them, “And I won’t condone killing an animal for protecting its territory.”

 

“Even if it killed Dad?” Dean growls at him and Sam is caught off guard of by the defensive tone. He slides his glasses back on and looks at Dean with a small frown.

 

“ _If_?” he says, quietly, realization hitting Sam like a bag of bricks, “You think he’s still alive, don’t you?”

 

Dean’s expressions changes from firm to sheepish within seconds.

 

Sam gapes, his mouth moving but no sounds come out before a soft, “Oh my god,” Sam breathes, backing up, his chest hurting suddenly, “You do.”

 

Dean doesn’t say anything, looking away.

 

He reaches out a hand but Dean knocks it away, “Don’t.”

 

“Dean,” he murmurs.

 

Dean shakes his head harshly, “I said, don’t Sam!”

 

He stomps off towards their cabin and Sam looks back at the stairs when he hears a chuckle. Ruby is standing there, smirk in place, “Bon voyage, Sammy,” she purrs at him.

 

He flips her the middle finger and follows his brother to their room.

  
  


¾W¾

  
  


After their argument in the hallway, Sam and Dean only had short conversations during the trip, mindless chatting about Sam’s students or Dean’s last job. He had been a curator of a small college museum in Calcutta before the lawyer had shown up, the way he talked about it made Sam realize his brother was fairly happy there, content to bicker with the board of directors about culture appropriation and new exhibits. How he ended up in Calcutta was still vague and Dean avoiding talking about it whenever Sam mentioned it.

 

They were only a day away from reaching the open span of sea and the supposed Gates under it. Dean had left him abruptly in the mess hall only moments ago, saying something about talking to Gadreel, communications expert, who Sam still hadn’t met.

 

He wasn’t alone for long, Cain, the ship’s doctor, sat down opposite of him with a slight smile, “Good evening, Sam.”

 

Sam nodded hello, his mouth full of lettuce, his nose scrunching when Balthazar sat next to the good doctor and smirked at Sam, “Hello, Professor.”

 

Soon, the quiet geologist joined them as well with Ms. Masters following him. It seemed to Sam that the four of them almost never separated and if they did, it was Meg or Balthazar going off to cause mayhem. Of course, it was only for a short time before they trailed after Cain or Lafitte again.

 

“We’re getting awfully close to the coordinates, Sam,” Meg smiled, “Care for a swim?”

 

Sam gave her a withered glare and turned back to his salad. Lafitte shot her a look and she grumbled, stabbing at the food on her tray.

 

“How long have you been teaching, mon ami?” Benny asked, his voice always just a few decibels higher than a whisper, smooth and accented ever so slightly.

 

“About a two years now,” Sam considered the man, “And you? Have you ever taught?”

 

Lafitte shrugged, “A lecture, here and there, but not a whole of folks are interested in the soil and minerals.”

 

Sam nodded, “Still, you seem to be an expert in your field. It must be nice to get respect for all your work and studies. College kids barely listen when I speak about orienteering or the geographic information system. I‘ll never get tenure. ”

 

“The what now,” Balthazar huffed, amused to no end.

 

Sam waved a hand at him, “Do you see my point? It’s a system that’s designed to capture and store information pertaining to the area around it. It can analyze, manage, and even manipulate the spatial or geographic aspect. It’s giving you an aerial view of the area but adding roads and detours and the like. There’s even a concept of spatial data infrastructure.”

 

Balthazar blinked at him, “I’m sorry? I thought you read maps.”

 

Sam sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose, while Lafitte was smothering his laughter. Sam nodded wearily, “Yes, in the most artless way possible, I read maps.”

 

Cain was even smiling, “What the Professor means is, that instead of walking around a city and actually mapping it out by hand, there is a scientific system that simplifies it. In the same way that you use a timing device to set off your toys rather than just striking a match and running.”

 

“I don’t know,” Balthazar says, understanding slightly, with a toothy grin, “I prefer the old method, occasionally, gets the blood pumping.”

 

Sam can’t help but smile ruefully back, “I feel the same, I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t.”

 

Sam stands up and says his goodbyes, leaving the tray by the food station and walking back to his room. The room is empty and Sam vaguely hopes Dean won’t avoid him all day but for now, he sits down at the desk and flips through the journal until he finds his father’s scrawled map. The keys are basic and Sam understands it fairly well. The descriptions of booby traps and monsters seem a little far fetched but the notes on the language and culture are in depth and Sam is quickly sucked in.

 

The notes go over how the natives appear to have painted grooves in their skin, like some kind of tribal tattoo, in the depicted artifacts. His father mentions it as a power source multiple times and Sam flips through the journal for further study on it but there’s only the few pages. There’s also handwriting in the book that doesn’t belong to his father and certain things that John Winchester couldn’t possibly have figured out from the known artifacts attributed to Atlantean culture.

 

Dean walks in just as Sam was about to look over the language more thoroughly. Sam looks up as Dean closes the door behind him and goes to sit on the bed, he’s leaning forward on his elbows and his hands loosely clasped, hanging between his splayed legs. He’s silent for such a long time that Sam considers returning to the journal when he finally speaks, “I don’t.”

 

Sam looks to the side then back at Dean, puzzled, “You don’t?”

 

The ship jerked suddenly and sent Sam sprawling forward while Dean fell back, they both sat up quickly and shared glances before rushing up to the deck.

The Colonel and Ruby were already in the control room. There was another man about Sam’s height with a headset on, his eyes glued to the sonar screen.

 

“Did we hit something, Gadreel?” Dean asked, leaning over him to stare at the screen. Another jolt had the rooms’ occupants grabbing near by instruments for balance.

 

“No,” Gadreel replied, looking over his shoulder at them, with perspiration above his top lip, “Something hit us.”

 

Before anyone could answer the man, the ship tilted heavily and Gadreel slammed forward into the sonar. The warning lights went off, red flashing in the cabin and a high-pitched siren took up a call. Something screeched in reply, from outside the ship. He quickly righted himself and turned Asmodeus, “Get the fucking life boats ready.”

 

“We can handle it,” the colonel drawled, much too calmly for Sam’s taste. He didn’t look remotely concerned.

 

Gadreel scoffed, grabbing a transistor radio and a stack of papers, “Good luck with that, Colonel. That-that thing isn’t even showing up on the sonar so unless you plan on going full Ahab, we need to get into the sub and the crew into the lifeboats _now.”_

 

The unassuming communications officer had quite the booming voice that even if the Colonel had wanted to argue, Sam and the others immediately started following Gadreel down to the stern of the ship. Asmodeus took off to direct the crew.

 

The way there was pandemonium, the crew running up to the deck in frenzy all the while the ship would tilt every few moments causing yells and cursing to fill the air. As they got closer to the mini-sub and, Sam thought, closer to danger, the team started to come to them. Lafitte was first, his research stuffed in a worn looking pack and his eyes hard. Meg appeared with Cain and Balthazar in tow but only for a few moments, talking lowly with Ruby before running off in the other direction, Lafitte joining them.

 

Sam frowned, shouting, “Where are they going?”

 

“To the other sub!” Ruby shouted back, not turning to look or slow down, in the least.

 

The ship rocked, again, almost completely horizontal. It rolled back, the hull creaking in a way that made Sam’s stomach drop. He took deep breaths, now, turning to Dean, “The other sub?”

 

Dean nodded, getting up and helping Sam as well, “It was just a precaution, in case we needed to bring anything back.”

 

Before Sam could ask why they would take anything so large that required another sub, Dean started jogging after Ruby and Gadreel. Sam’s stomach sunk lower as he followed after; there was something he didn’t know, something they weren’t telling him. An odd sensation met him as they entered the dock for the sub. He looked down; he was practically wading in seawater.

 

As Gadreel opened the sub’s hatch, Sam felt his hands start to shake and turned around, taking up at a run. Dean yelled after him but he didn’t have time to argue with his older brother.

 

The journal.

 

He’d left the journal. It held the map, the solution to the booby traps. They needed it.

 

Running in the water was exhausting and Sam tried to ignore the feeling of it rising up against his waist. He was almost there.

 

The room looked ransacked. The journal was on the floor, pages were torn out but Sam didn’t have the time to search, he snatched it and his satchel, holding them to his chest.

 

He turned and rushed out the door, by the time he had made it back to the sub, he had to hold the journal and his bag above his head, the salt water splashing into his mouth. He climbed the sub and tripped into the hatch. Falling hard into the cabin, he barely registered Dean shouting at him or Gadreel slamming the release button but the plunge into the water below had his stomach in his throat. His glasses had slipped off. He tried moving to sit up but his arm gave out the minute he put any pressure on it, screeching with pain.

 

“Sam! You goddamn idiot, what the hell were you thinking?” Dean growled, grabbing his shirt but dropping it quickly at the noise Sam made, “What? What is it?”

 

Sam sucked air through his teeth, “My arm. I think it’s broken.”

 

While Dean started cursing, Sam felt around for his glasses with his good arm, finding the wire frames and sliding them on. The submarine was roomy, the back filled with supplies and even scuba gear. Ruby and Gadreel sat in the pilot seats, peering out in the dark waters with matching looks of unease. Sam swallowed, thickly, hushing Dean, “It’s fine, I’ll have Cain take a look at it later.”

 

Cradling his arm against his stomach, he grabbed onto the near by seat and hauled himself up, wincing, “I had to go back. We needed it.”

 

“What?” Dean snapped, “What did we need, Sam?”

 

Sam pointedly looked at the journal on the ground by his feet and Dean fell silent, sitting next to Sam and picking it gently off the floor.

 

Dean‘s frown grew, “There’s pages missing.”

 

“The room was a mess, Dean. Someone went through it; I guess they found what they were looking for, “ Sam says, softly, keeping an eye on Ruby. He couldn’t accuse her; she had been with them the whole time. Dean follows his gaze and nods in reply, “We’ll talk about it later.”

 

The sub is knocked suddenly, Ruby hisses under her breath, and Gadreel tightened his hands on the wheel, “Not out of the woods yet.”

 

“Where are the others?” Ruby asked, flipping a switch that turned off the lights on the sub as Gadreel swerved the sub toward the ocean floor. Gadreel didn’t answer, his face grim.

 

“We can’t just leave them!” Sam cried, “That thing is still out there!”

 

“Thing?” Dean looked at him, “I thought you said it was a squid?”

 

“A squid would have showed up on the sonar, it was calibrated to pick up any kind of movement. Whatever that is, it just showed up out of no where,” Gadreel dismissed, still watching the observation window, “The Colonel was supposed to meet the others at their sub. If he’s with them, they’ll be fine.”

 

“What now?” Ruby questions, fingers drumming on control board.

 

Gadreel glances back at Sam, “He’s the one with the map, isn’t he?”

 

Sam responds with an incredulous look, “You want to keep going? The whole reason it’s attacking us is because it’s some kind of guardian.”

 

“We don’t have enough fuel to get us very far and the ship is probably half sunk by now. I’m open to other options but this lost city is our best bet.” Gadreel explains, “Besides, we can send our coordinates periodically to the other sub and if they’re getting them, they’ll meet up with us there.”

 

Dean touches Sam’s shoulder, “We’re almost there, Sam.”

 

“I don’t believe this,” Sam sighs, but his arm hurts too much to further the argument and flips the pages in the journal to the map. He takes a moment to read over the traps but the guardian seems to be the only warning for this section, “Look for a stone arch, after that the cave entrance shouldn’t be too far.”

 

Ruby turns the lights back on low and Gadreel pushes the wheel forward.

 

Sam leans his head back against the wall and closes his eyes. His arm feels heavy and his head pounds in time with his pulse. He is suddenly very tired. He tries not to think about his mom.

 

Dean nudges him gently, “Probably shouldn’t fall asleep, you could have a concussion.”

 

Sam blinks at him, “What were you going to say?”

 

“What?”

 

“In the room, before we got knocked on our asses, what were you going to say?” Sam clarifies, his eyelids feeling drooped.

 

Dean looks toward the other two, the ocean and an occasional fish passing by, his face drawn, “I don’t think Dad is alive.”

 

Sam says nothing, he doesn’t quite believe Dean. All this effort for some waterlogged ruins?

 

“I did. I did for a long time,” his brother says softly, a stone arch coming into view, “But not anymore.”

 

Sam thinks, for a moment, about asking when he stopped but he doesn’t have the energy. He’s asleep on Dean’s shoulder before he can entertain the thought.

  
  


 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> lmaoooo Cain’s hands are soft cause he uses burt's bees lotion don't @ me

**Author's Note:**

> Let me know If you like it, if you hate it, or if you would prefer I take it down and never write again :)


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